Solas Positivity Week
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: All my entries for this week featured on tumblr. Solas/Fen'Harel, my Inquisitor and members of the Elven Pantheon make appearances.
1. Chapter 1

**For Solas Positivity Week, Day One: Solas on his own** \- _In the wake of death, someone else is born._

The trickster tricked. Oh, how the Dalish would bend over themselves in petulant laughter to know of this.

Fen'Harel wakes with face pressed into the sand and blood smeared across cheek from the cut on his lip. The prison is silent, the Tevinter magister long gone with his prize. The wolf knew he could not be completely trusted, but desperation and arrogance can easily cloud the mind and hide what is so obvious to open, clear eyes.

It was a calculated risk, one that did not add up in his favor. He finds himself outmatched and it is not the first time to realize he is simply not the elf he was before. This false world has broken him, broken everything, and it might suffer again for his lack of foresight.

Fen'Harel wipes the blood from his face, red lips pushing back in a snarl, as he stalks from the underground and back into the light.

He travels for days, weeks, catching the scent of his prey in dreams and with a wet nose pressed to the dirt. Every day his strength grows greater, but so also does his worry and guilt. They gnaw at him, teeth on bare bone. He has spent the last seven years trying to escape this future and return what was lost and it all cannot be ruined because of this prideful mistake.

As four paws climb atop another hill, the scent becomes lost amongst thousands of others. When he crests the summit, eyes peer down into the dark at a strong temple overflowing with humans in shining armor and others in long robes. Something important is happening here, here where the scent ends. Corypheus is close. Fen'Harel shakes himself and on two feet begins to descend.

A flash of green, blinding, brilliant, shoots up into the sky from the center of the structure. A few seconds later the noise of a hundred lightning strikes bursts against his ears as a wave of energy flings him back into the snow and rocks.

He can only lay there for a few muted moments before he struggles back to his feet. Ancient eyes gaze upon the results of his sins.

The temple is gone, the land now a smoldering crater black and burning. Everything around it is much the same, dead and ash or gone completely. And the sky. The sky is shattered, bleeding bolts of green streaks raining down on the land below. He can taste the power used to create a hole in the world on his tongue, feel it like a noose pulling tight.

It was the orb.

Legs kick up snow as he races down the mountainside. Soon there will be others to come and investigate such an explosion, and he must find it before they arrive. There is no way the infernal mage could have survived such force, but the orb should still be intact.

When he reaches the area he searches and searches, spiraling inwards towards where it is obvious the explosion originated. He cannot feel the pull of the foci, nor smell its scent on the scorched wind anywhere nearby. His motions become more frantic, eyes darting and mouth moving in silent pleas, but there is nothing here but fire, burnt bodies and a heavy, acrid malaise filling lungs.

It is gone.

Fen'Harel crashes back to the ground, uncaring as rocks slice into his knees. He grips the still burning ground between his trembling fingers but does not feel the sting. A scream sunders the air, a howl of loss and pain, guilt and sorrow. He has walked a lonely path for centuries, but never until this moment has he felt so desperately alone. He was supposed to help his people, protect them, _save_ them. Everything he was, everyone he cared about, he destroyed to bring about great change and this is what will be his legacy? A hollow world and broken sky?

Voices reach his ears. He thinks about remaining and kneeling before the mercy of a swift ax for they would no doubt blame whoever could survive such a disaster. But old habits are hard to break, and the wolf is nothing if not a selfish survivor. He limps from the ruins, tears turning everything into a blur as he escapes. He thinks about running and never stopping until something pops and sizzles from the crater behind.

Fen'Harel crouches behind rock and watches a breach in the Veil form. There is something beyond, something glowing and dark things squirming, but only one object punches through to this domain. He cannot see it clearly, but is a woman, an elf it seems, but he can hardly concentrate on her features beyond that. It is the burning light on her hand that draws his attention. He can feel his magic again, struggling and confused, but it is there branded in her palm and coursing through her veins. The magic of the orb is alive yet.

She collapses as soldiers approach on wary legs. They stand there for a few moments, contemplating their choices, before they none so gracefully lift her up and drag her from the smoking pit. Fen'Harel must follow them, find her, get back what was stolen. He _must_ set this right.

He follows the shemlen at a distance, a black wolf hiding in shadows and the turbulent night. They take the she-elf to a small town now overrun with refugees and soldiers, their voices rising like heavy incense full of chaos and fear. Fen'Harel finds a secluded hideaway to watch as she is taken inside a sturdy building with thick doors. He needs to get inside, but she might not last until the others are fast asleep, or they might kill her outright for what she bears. There must be another way.

An idea strikes him as he morphs into his mortal form. They will be looking for guidance to deal with these strange events, and no one knows more about the power in her palm than him. He can feel it pulsing even from here, growing wilder every moment the hole in the sky grows larger. He can be their guide, an adviser of the unknown and misunderstood, if he plays this right, but he must be careful.

Magic slides over his body, taking away the fitted finery of his youth and replacing them with simple wool, fur and leather. He runs a hand across his scalp and long brown hair, twisted together with jewels sewn through the strands, falls away until nothing remains. He can no longer be Fen'Harel, the rebel god of Arlathan.

He is no longer worthy to wear the name once worshiped in whispers and sung with praises. He has betrayed all those who lifted him up and must earn such a title once again. He will become something else, someone else, until he sets things right and escapes from this nightmare so selfishly created.

Pride.

It is was brought about their downfall, his shame. He will call himself pride as a daily reminder that he cannot be what he once was, that this world deserves better than what he has wrought.

Fen'Harel takes his last breath and it is Solas that exhales. He walks out of the darkness and into the light of Haven, a staff in hand and a promise in heart. He will not fail this time, no matter the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

**For Solas Positivity Week: Day Two, Fen'Harel + The Pantheon** \- _The true tale of_ _ **Fen'Harel and the Tree**_ _. Young Fen'Harel loves to play with fire and never thinks he will get burned, but he has yet to meet his match._

Fen'Harel waits behind bark and root for his huntress to come. A smile blooms across his mouth as he hears the undergrowth rustle up ahead and can barely contain a shower of laughter from escaping his lips. As far as his other acts of deceit and cunning go, this is far from his most extravagant ruse, but the idea of its pay off shivers down his spine.

Andruil bursts from the forest, wild and wonderful, with her fire touched hair billowing out from beneath ivory helm. Her legendary bow is drawn with a Fade wrapped arrow caught between strong fingers and she swings the weapon in quick arches as her violet eyes scan the small clearing.

The crease of concentration on her brow turns to one of confusion and Fen'Harel steps from behind his sanctuary to greet her with a grin. The arrow raises to aim between his eyes and does not lower even when she recognizes his face.

"Where is he?" she asks as he moves across the soft grass towards her, steps swaying with youthful confidence. His newly won power still courses untamed through his veins, and he enjoys testing the limits of what he can now accomplish.

"Who might that be?"

"Dirthamen told me you were being attacked by Anaris. What has happened?"

Fen'Harel spreads his hands and stops a few paces from her feet. "As you can see, there is no one else here. It is just us, ma da'assan."

"Y-your what-" Andruil narrows her eyes, anger rolling through them for a few seconds until they spark with something else. With a disarming grin of her own, she releases the string of the bow and wraps the weapon around her lithe frame. "Alone, you say?"

"Indeed," he replies as she moves forward, removing her hunting gloves with slow precision.

"And I suppose Anaris was never here to lay siege to our newest member of the pantheon?" she asks as she reaches up to play with the lapels of his fine tunic.

"I have no inkling how Dirthamen could have come to such a notion," he answers and Andruil gives a deep laugh.

"Fen'Harel." The way she says his name curls through his skin and rumbles through his bones. She is a fierce thing, a warrior worthy of every accolade their people proclaim. He has wanted her the moment he entered their council chambers and saw her shining like a vibrant star upon her throne. He conquered his godhood with a blood filled roar. He will conquer her with a breathless whisper.

Her deft hands come up and push, gentle but firm, against his shoulders and Fen'Harel retreats back towards his tree. Every tandem step between them builds a fire inside and mirrors the heat growing in her dangerous gaze. If there is one more animal than he, anyone who would prove the greatest prize, it is the woman with flames in her eyes before him now.

When his back presses into the tree, Andruil leans into his skin and her cool armor makes gooseflesh rise. "You are very young, Fen'Harel, and so bold. I do not wonder why Mythal chose to make you one of us, but I do wonder if you understand the fire you play with. Such a clever wolf you are to catch the huntress, but do you know what to do with her once snared?"

"I have some thoughts."

Andruil brings her fingers down the long cut of his shirt and flares them out to grip tight to his hips. She moves closer until their breath mixes and the heat of her gaze is all he can see.

"Stop thinking," she whispers, a challenge in the way her eyebrow lifts.

Cautious eyes still watch her as eager mouth accepts. Her lips are warm, almost burning, and Fen'Harel feels himself melt thinking about how they might feel caressing other parts of him. He leans back, glancing at her waiting expression, before moving again with earnest endeavor.

He brings a hand up to tilt her head for better purchase and swallows the soft sigh she lets out as he slants his lips to hers. She pulls him flush against her armor and it is all the encouragement he needs to possess her mouth completely, to suck her bottom lip between his teeth and roll his tongue against it, to part her lips and finally taste her.

She is wood smoke, a heady, sultry heat that has him begging for more. He knows he might burn, but the reward is worth the threat. His hands roam down her arms and wrap around her back. Brave fingers sink lower, gliding over the smooth casing of her backside and Andruil bends into him, tilting her head back to offer her graceful throat. She sighs again as his lips leave a wet trail, moans as his teeth graze across her collarbone.

"Fen'Harel," she says, voice laced with heavy desire and he feels it sink lower into his gut. "Just because I am caught does not mean I am easy prey. Many of my lovers have discovered this truth and left wanting. What would you do to keep me?"

"I am sure there were many who worshiped you, words and tongues trailing across your body in fervent prayer," he replies as he kisses a sensitive spot just behind her ear. "And those that tried to dominate you, to tie you down until you were the one to cry out their name."

He bites into skin and smiles against it as she shivers in his grasp. "I would do neither. I would do both. I would listen to the way your soul sings for pleasure with keen, wanting ears. I would leave you satisfied in every way you have imagined and ways you have not."

He brings his hand around her hips and places the palm against her lower stomach. Fen'Harel waits until he catches her simmering gaze before he lets loose magic from his fingertips. It's a rush of sparks and cooling waves, just a few seconds of what he can provide, but it is enough to get the reaction he desires. Andruil gasps this time, nails digging into his flesh as her eyes blow wide.

"In the end, they all wanted something from you, but I wish nothing of the sort. I would not leave your side for days, weeks, years, not until we drew every morsel of ecstasy from one another, until we are both husks yet so thoroughly filled. I have no desire to claim you, Andruil." He brushes his mouth upon her ear. "I wish to devour you."

The goddess growls and pushes hard. Air leaves Fen'Harel with a whoosh as his back cracks into the tree and he cannot catch his breath as Andruil sears her lips against his. His smug spirit is practically preening with victory as her touch grows ever more desperate, gripping to his long hair or fisting his clothes within claws. He begins to reach for the clasps of her armor, but her nimble fingers wrap around his wrists almost hard enough to bruise and pin them back against the bark.

It is his turn to be left senseless by her devotion as she takes his earlobe between her teeth and gentle bites down, as she sucks the flesh above his pulse and causes it to rise. The inability to touch her in return makes him want her all the more, and he can't help the whine that escapes his throat as she pushes her hips against his, rotating them with such exquisite skill.

Amongst the sound of lips crashing, of moans drawn from deep within, Fen'Harel hears something metallic click. Andruil steps away as fast as a hare and the absence of her body leaves him cold and confused.

"What…" He moves to follow her and finds he cannot. A glance behind reveals his wrists have been secured around the tree by steel glistening with magic. He gives a tug, testing the strength, and finds they give not an inch.

When he glances back at Andruil, he finds her wearing a wicked look. Fen'Harel tries to keep his roguish grin even as dread weaves between his ribs. "I do not usually bring out bondage items until later, but if you insist."

Andruil laughs, but it is a fearsome, devilish thing. "Look at you. A young beta who thinks himself head of the pack. You would try to trap me, trick me to fall for your fumbling ministrations like I am some bumbling maid? I have blinked and missed the entirety of your pathetic life. I have chased prey across the stars and beyond the blackness, and I will not be caught by some fool who thinks himself the whole universe."

Fen'Harel tugs on his chains. Even with all his new found strength and knowledge, he cannot break free no matter what spell or thing he calls upon. Andruil watches him, her gleeful vengeance flowing off her in waves, before she turns and begins to walk away. "You have much to learn, da fen."

"Wait, Andruil!" There is a quiver of panic in his voice that he covers up with casual laughter. "Enough of these games, I surrender. I…"

Andruil stops and turns, waiting. "Yes?"

"I am outmatched, truly. I thought I was clever and wise, but you have humbled me, shown me that such a thing of beauty and power as yourself deserves more than my youthful advances." He fills his words with honey until the sweetness coats his throat. "Release me and teach me how I might be worthy enough to run by your side."

She returns to him and places her palms on either side of his head. "Say my name."

"Andruil."

"Again."

Fen'Harel shifts, glancing away as another type of heat blooms on his cheek. "Andruil," he mumbles.

"Say it again and again and again, until it is the only thing you remember how to speak. Scream it, cry it, curse it and know I am not something to be chased, but something to run from. It may take days, weeks, years. Only when I am satisfied that you have learned this truth will I let you go free, pet."

The huntress leaves a kiss on his nose before pulling back and crushing the grass beneath her retreating feet. At this, Fen'Harel drops every pretense of his haughty composure. "You cannot be serious. Andruil! Andruil, please!"

He screams for her well after she disappears into the brush. He howls for days and days, curses her name, begs for her mercy, barters everything he has for his release. It is Mythal that eventually answers his call. He cannot look at her as she snaps her fingers and releases Andruil's spell. He can only lick his wounds as the elder goddess laughs and chastises his foolish behavior.

"You certainly have caught her interest, congratulations," Mythal says after her mirth echoes away.

"How can you claim such a thing?" he groans, pained and ashamed.

"Because," she kisses his brow, "she let you live."

And even though Mythal's words prove true, thousands of years later, Fen'Harel is grateful for once that the Dalish have forgotten the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**For Solas Positivity Week: Day 3, Wolf Hunt** - _Sometimes there is a deeper meaning behind a bedtime story._

 **Went in a different direction with this, sort of…it explains what happened in Wolf Hunt, but with a twist. And no I don't know how I came up with this. Enjoy!**

"Tell me the story of the Wolf and the Nest again?"

"As you wish, da'len, but then you must sleep."

 _Wolf thought himself the smartest thing in the forest. He needed no pack and preferred to hunt alone for there was no one as cunning as he. One day as he walked through the trees he heard the call of a plump dove resting on its nest. He grew ravenous at the thought of fresh eggs to eat._

' _Little dove,' he called out, 'will you spare one of your eggs for me? Surely it would be easier if you had less mouths to feed in the coming months.'_

' _I have no eggs to spare for you, Wolf,' the dove said before flying away at the threat of his teeth. Wolf began to circle the tree attempting to think of ways to reach the nest. He jumped up and up, over and over, but no matter how hard he tried he could not reach the branch._

' _You don't want that nest,' a voice said nearby and Wolf looked into the neighbor tree to find Panther laying there._

' _Be gone, I do not need your advice,' he replied. He howled at the tree, trying to bend it over with the power of his voice, but that did not work. He clawed and clawed at the bark, but the tree remained firm._

' _There is other prey to be found and I would be willing to share. We can work together," Panther offered. 'You are making a mistake. You do not want that nest.'_

' _I do not need your help nor your companionship either. I will have those eggs and show you!'_

 _Wolf began to gather all manner of things and place them against the tree. He would build a makeshift staircase to reach the branch. It was brilliant and he knew no other animal could be as resourceful as he. He worked on and on, day passing into night, stomach growing heavy with hunger, but he would not be set to another path._

 _Once he was satisfied, Wolf backed as far away as he could to prepare for his ascent. The sky grew dark with rain clouds and the wind began to blow fast. Wolf's structure creaked and shuddered with the coming storm, but he did not take heed of the possible danger._

' _I wouldn't do it,' Panther said. 'You don't belong in trees, Wolf, and that nest is not worth your time. Don't you want to know why?'_

' _No, you probably want it for yourself. Leave me be! My plan is foolproof. Just watch!'_

 _Wolf took a deep breath and ran. His haphazard creation began to wobble as he touched it, but Wolf raced across it and launched himself the remaining way into the tree. He howled with delight as his claws scrambled to grasp the branch. He had made it into the tree!_

' _See, Panther! I did not need your help at all. And now I will feast on delicious eggs.'_

 _He crawled his way towards the nest and, licking his lips looked down…only to find the nest empty. Empty!_

' _It's empty!' he cried._

' _I told you, you didn't want that nest,' Panther purred. Just then the rain began to pour and the wind began to blow so hard Wolf had to hunch down and cling to the branch or risk falling. He watched as his carefully created staircase crumbled and fell away, leaving him stuck too high to jump down without gravely hurting himself._

' _You should have listened to me, Wolf. I could see what you could not. I could have saved you all this trouble if you would have let me help.'_

 _Wolf whined, hunger and shame eating a hole in his stomach, as the downpour soaked his beautiful fur._

' _Yes, I should have listened to you. I have been a fool.'_

 _All at once the rain stopped hitting him and he looked up to see Panther holding the leaves to protect him. She smiled with mischief, but there was kindness in her yellow eyes. 'Will you let me help you now?'_

' _All right.'_

 _Panther reached down and picked Wolf up by the scruff of his neck and carefully clawed her way down the the trunk of the tree. Once on the ground she let him go and the two predators stared at one another as the storm died down around them._

' _Come, silly Wolf. I know of a nest full of tasty eggs just waiting to be gobbled up. If you distract the mother with your cleverness, I will sneak and steal them. What do you say?'_

' _All right,' said Wolf and from that moment on he learned to listen to those that would help him instead of thinking his way was the only way._

As the story ends, he glances down at the mass of raven hair and small limbs against his side. The girl has fallen fast asleep and he smiles at the way little snores escape through parted lips. Gently he leaves a kiss against her brow before sneaking himself away from the narrow bed. He creeps across the stone floors on silent feet and spares one last look back before exiting the room.

His eyes grow soft at the sight of her, perfect and wonderful and his to cherish. Whatever future he envisioned for himself, it could not come close to the fulfillment of what he now has. "Sleep well, ashalan," he whispers before shutting the door.

"I am not sure who enjoys that story more, you or her," a voice says nearby and he turns to find yellow eyes smiling.

"It is a meaningful and enchanting tale with a satisfactory ending," he replies as he wraps himself around a familiar waist.

"One that could have gone many ways. If only he had listened sooner though. So much trouble could have been avoided, don't you think?" she asks as strong arms reach up around his neck.

"Perhaps, but then who could predict how the story would end?"

"She would always come and save him, no matter what." Warm lips press into his and he sinks in the encompassing weight of her love. She pulls away, holding tight to his hand, and tugs him towards their room. Her smile turns as wild as the spirit within. "Come, silly Wolf. I have some more mischief we can get ourselves into."

"As you wish, ma banvherassan."

Translations

ashalan - daughter

banvherassan - panther, black tiger

Taken from **Project Elvhen**

 _Notes_

 _You have no idea how many parables/tales/things I read for this haha. I have a whole story exploring what might happen post game called_ _ **Only the Fallen May Rise**_ _and this may or may not have anything to do with that timeline._


	4. Chapter 4

**For Solas Positivity Week, Day 4: Solas + His Interests -** _Solas, Dorian and Keela have a discussion about spirits and discover more than was to be expected. Based on party banter._

Rain beats against their simple shelter as early morning fights to rise through the clouds blanketing Crestwood. Most of the Inquisition huddles close to the small fire as they eat their breakfast before striking out into the dreary day.

Keela stifles a yawn behind her hand as she sits down next to Solas. "Good morning."

"Inquisitor," he greets and hands her a steaming bowl of porridge that she accepts with sleepy thanks. "Did you not sleep well?"

"I don't find the constant pattering of rain as relaxing as some people might. I swear I could hear those gods forsaken spirits down there moaning all night too," she grumbles.

"A curious thing to find them in such a dismal place and yet they haven't changed into demons for it," Dorian says from across the fire.

"The spirits are confused, lost," Solas comments. "The tragedy that struck Crestwood reached out to influence even the denizens of the Fade it seems. I believe we could benefit from approaching these spirits and understanding their malaise. Perhaps in doing so, we will be a step closer to discovering what plagues these lands so."

"First we must find this warden friend of Hawke's," Keela says.

Dorian's eyebrows raise. "You would converse with spirits?"

"Spirits can oftentimes be extremely helpful, if approached correctly," Solas replies.

"Do you use spirits as servants, Solas? You'd have no trouble capturing them."

The apostate's nose crinkles in distaste. "No. They are intelligent, living creatures. Binding them against their will is reprehensible."

"How much "will" do they have?" There is a disbelieving laugh in Dorian's reply. "They're amorphous constructs of the Fade."

Solas replies with a dismissive murmur, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation further, but the altus is not finished just yet.

"There's no harm putting them to constructive use and most mages back home treat them well."

After a moment's thought, Solas replies. "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?"

"What? Spirits don't have magical talent," Dorian says.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

Keela gives a snort of laughter at such a reply and the way Dorian's mouth opens and closes like a fish. She says something in Tevene that makes him mumble about elves and delusions before he rises and quits the circle.

"What did you tell him?" Solas asks.

"I said perhaps he might want to consider waking up earlier if he wants to get the best of you."

Solas chuckles at that.

"Your knowledge of spirits is quite extensive. I'd love to hear more about your theories. The ones we discussed in Haven were fascinating."

"I admit, I find your interest of my studies…curious. Not unwelcome, merely unexpected. Do you wish to become a scholar of spirits yourself?"

"Not necessarily. I just want to take advantage of this opportunity to learn everything I can before I'm forced back to my clan. And," she tilts her head to meet his eyes, 'I enjoy talking with you, Solas."

"I…" he clears his throat. "I enjoy your company as well, Inquisitor."

Keela smiles before turning her attention back towards her breakfast, and Solas lets out a small, relieved sigh. "What made you decide to follow such a field of study?"

"It seemed a natural progression what with my abilities to traverse deep within the Fade. The Chantry teaches mages to fear spirits, but it is something borne of ignorance.

Employing caution, the Fade is no more dangerous than exploring any new area and, if one is respectable, spirits can be hospitable hosts. I find their nature and knowledge fascinating."

"What do you mean?"

"If one cares to listen, there is much to learn from them. They have witnessed empires rise and fall, listened to the speeches of great leaders and terrible tyrants. They have no bias towards one party or another and can be trusted to reveal the truth. They see the world in a way no one else possibly could and such insight should be valued."

Solas glances up at the other companions and Inquisition soldiers. The Iron Bull lets out a rumbling laugh at something Varric says while Cassandra shakes her head with a grimace. "Throughout my journeys in the Fade, I have also managed to find companionship when I did not expect to find such things."

He feels something touch upon his shoulder and turns. Keela's hand rests there, gentle as if not to startle him, but he can feel the warmth of it through his tunic. When he makes no motion to deny it, she gives a soft squeeze.

"Perhaps you've not been looking very hard?" she says and he can give no reply at the kindness in her gaze and the spark there of something more. Keela lets her touch linger before standing up. "Coming?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, but sets off towards the companions with a wave and a greeting. Solas watches them for a few moments, listens until he hears Keela's bright laugh slice through the bitter rainfall, and then he grabs his staff to join their company. They set out together, and Solas finds himself drawn closer to the Inquisitor with thoughts far from spirits or the Fade for once.


	5. Chapter 5

**For Solas Positivity Week: Day 5, Solas + Friendship** \- _Fen'Harel comforts a grieving friend._

Ghilan'nain's laughter makes the flowers grow.

The first time he sees it, Fen'Harel can only watch in amazement as her clear voice coaxes shoots of lilies to sprout from the soil. They grow and grow until the orange and blood petals fan open with jubilant sighs.

Of all the elvhen gods, he enjoys her companionship the most. Dirthamen is as clever as he for academic discussions, June is handy with jokes and for a good game of chance. Andruil's heated embrace leaves him limping for days and Mythal offers sage advice he does his best to ignore. They all have something to offer Fen'Harel, but all ask for something in return.

Except for Ghilan'nain.

When she listens, it is not to hear your weakness. When she smiles, it is not with fangs bared. She is far from naive, or weak, and those that test their luck find themselves trampled beneath her feet, but she is different, gentle in a world of monsters that can level mountains. When she calls you kin it is a bond made deep within, and not even the trickster wolf would dare break something so rare and treasured.

It is why Fen'Harel growls in fury now. Ghilan'nain kneels in decay, the flowers and grass around her wilted and turned black. If her laughter makes the world grow, it is her misery that sees it shrivel. She hovers over the body of a noble halla with beautiful golden horns and dead eyes. An arrow with red fletching sticks from its stomach as scarlet and gore run down the animal's fine white hide

Fen'Harel drops down next to the goddess. "What has happened, lethallan?" he asks, although he knows whose arrow has taken this life.

"He was cherished friend," she says as trembling fingers brush across still fur. "She did not even give him a clean death, but one that lingered for hours. We fought and I…she is jealous, paranoid, angry, vengeful. She is, she is…"

"Mad," Fen'Harel finishes. Long has he noticed how his lover's eyes grow wild not with life, but a sickness consuming all. He reaches out and pulls Ghilan'nain to his chest and remains there as the sun makes its way across the meadow, until the birds sing their last songs before settling under wing. He waits, a patient hound bound by loyalty, until she heaves a heavy sigh and untangles herself from his arms.

"What do you wish to do?" he asks. Anger boils inside him, howling and clawing to be let free. He should have dealt with Andruil before this happened and now cannot let her escape such a crime. Not anymore. "Do you seek revenge?"

Ghilan'nain shakes her head. "No, Fen'Harel. Would you help me harm her even if I did?"

"There is a little I would not do for you, lethallan."

She smiles, but it does not make the meadow grow green again. "I love her as you do, even after this, but she must be stopped. We must help her."

"I fear she is beyond us, but," he pauses, eyes glancing into the distance, "I have a plan, a plan to make the others see what they refuse to acknowledge. It will not be easy-"

"And she will not be harmed?" She reaches up to clutch at the fabric around his shoulders. Fen'Harel looks into her eyes sparkling like dew over emerald moss. He lays a gentle kiss upon her brow.

"Only for you will I promise this. Weep no longer, all will be well." He kisses her again and again, soft, quick brushes across her skin, and a smile with life in it breaks across her mouth. When he leans forward to press for more she bats him away with true laughter that fills his heart with hope more than any others could. "Come."

Fen'Harel helps her to her feet and takes her into the forest. Beside the body of the dead, a single white flower grows.


	6. Chapter 6

**For Solas Positivity Week: Day 6, Solas + Rare Pairs/OT3** \- _Love is a weakness._

Andruil makes love like she makes war.

She is all encompassing, demanding, ruthless in her pleasure. She knows several ways to kill a person, and even more ways to have them crying out her name in ecstasy. She takes no prisoners, gives no quarter, and if you are lucky enough to survive her onslaught you are never left the same.

Fen'Harel traps the huntress by the weight of his body, pinning her hands beneath his own. She writhes against his skin, rubbing in places that have him shuddering and aching. He opens his eyes to find her watching him, impatience and desire heavy across her features. She is always watching, always wary, and he has never minded til now.

Their affair has been burning off and on for almost half a century. He knows every inch of her pale skin, every way to make her moan and crest in crashing waves. Yet Andruil wears armor even underneath her skin and he knows so little about the woman she is. The young wolf enjoys what they have, but he finds he wants something more than clashing hips and warring tongues.

He pulls away from her bruising kiss. "Wait, Andruil. Wait."

She struggles a few seconds more against his hold before her brows crease in annoyance. "What?"

"Just…humor me." His fingers loosen around hers as he dips his lips to her mouth. The kiss is gentle, slow, and he almost laughs to see the confusion in her eyes. When Andruil tries to add heat and force to it, he moves away and waits until she surrenders once more. His kisses every part of her lips, the corners of her mouth, exploring and cherishing, worshiping her in soft supplication.

Her resistance begins to slide away as he leans against a forearm and brings his free hand to cradle around the base of her skull. Andruil melts into the bed at the touch, her own hands unfurling to run smooth up and down his back. Fen'Harel deepens the kiss, tongue brushing across the velvet of her lips before slipping inside, languid strokes to savor the taste of her.

Andruil sighs and he peeks his eyes open to find hers finally closed, her expression soft with a sweetness he has never seen before. His hand moves to caress down her side, learning the curves of her all anew, and the heat in his heart swells to something different. It is gentle yet firm, a low burn that fills every part of it. It is…

"Ar lath ma," he whispers into her mouth. Andruil tenses up beneath him, her eyes flying open and swirling with shock and something like fear, but he can't believe she could ever be afraid of anything.

"What?" she says back, voice barely heard.

"I-" Fen'Harel swallows a sudden lump in his throat as his mind finally catches up with his words. He glances down into her eyes and mirrors her same cornered expression. "I…"

The goddess pushes hard against his shoulders and escapes from the bed. She paces by the side before retreating to stand by the open window, arms crossing and closing herself away. The confident wolf watches her for a moment, waiting to see if she will pounce in anger, but Andruil remains quiet, subdued, and it is more fearsome than her wrath. He sighs and rises to join her.

"Why would say such a thing?" she asks when he draws near.

"Because it is true," he replies after a thoughtful pause. "And I am not in the habit of denying what I feel."

"You are ruining everything."

He gives a laugh. "How can that be so?"

"What we have is fine as it is! Why would you try to change it into something else? It won't work!"

"And why not?" He comes to stand by her side to see her face scrunched in displeasure.

"Love is a weakness, Fen'Harel, and I cannot be weak. I don't-I don't know how." She turns away from his prying eyes. "What you want I cannot give. So go, leave. You are of no use to me now."

He hears the words, but he does not fully believe them. Not by the way she hunches over herself, her armor shifting to reveal softer spots beneath. She is a stubborn thing and this new battle will undoubtedly hurt, but he is also not in the habit of giving up on what he wants.

Fen'Harel reaches out to touch her waist and Andruil moves away, but not far enough. He waits a moment before trying again and this time she allows him to wrap his arms around her. He leans in, leaving gentle kisses against her shoulder, her neck.

"I will stay, if it is all the same to you."

"Fine. If that is your wish, fool," she replies, but there is no bite behind her words.

It is a small victory when he feels her fall into his embrace. He smiles into her skin and silently spells out the words of his affection she is hesitant to hear. There will be a time to face this, to decide where the battle lines must be drawn, but for now he will content himself in the knowledge she is willing to try.

Perhaps love is a weakness, but it is one he will choose.


	7. Chapter 7

**For Solas Positivity Week: Day 7, Solavellan -** _The end of the journey is only the beginning._

Solas rests beneath the boughs of a great tree as sunny, spring air plays with the budding branches. A few blossoms already fall to dance slowly to the ground and he knows it will only be a few days until the others join to paint the hillside in white petals. As he watches one swirl through the breeze, he spots three figures climbing the rise.

Two are soldiers dressed in armor glistening gold and green, but his attention is drawn to the woman between their ranks. She wears a flowing, sleeveless dress of soft rose cinched around her waist by a wide belt. The color and the caress of the sun make her bronze skin glow and he forgoes the book in hand to watch her draw near.

Keela smiles when she is close enough to catch his gaze, tucking loose strands of her growing hair behind an ear when the wind catches it. As she passes the two sentries who enjoy following in his shadow, they bow low at the waist to her. She says something he cannot hear and the guards fan out, two wrapping around the hillside until he can no longer see them.

"Good afternoon," she says when she reaches his outstretched feet. She stops, playing with her hair in a motion that now seems shy especially with the way she avoids his gaze. It is a curious thing for her to be so hesitant.

"Are you well?" he asks.

"Yes, may I join you?"

"Of course," he says and holds out his hand in an offering to join him. As always, her hand is warm, the heat of it spreading down into his chest. She settles against his side and he gives her a quick kiss to find her lips taste of sweet fruit. "How were your appointments?"

"Fine. The Inquisition should be here by tomorrow, the forward scouts have already arrived. I feel like it's been ages since I last saw Cassandra."

"I am sure she will be pleased to see you again," he answers as Keela removes the simple gold circlet from around her head and places it in the grass between them.

"How was your morning?"

Solas lets out a sigh. "Orlesians are ever the same."

With a deep laugh, Keela places an arm around his waist and rests her chin atop his shoulder. They fall into a comfortable silence and Solas returns to his tome, idly watching from the corner of his eye as Keela plays with the fabric of her dress or twists blades of grass between her long fingers. A content sigh filters through her lips. Moments of calm are to be cherished for they come far too little these days. Change has never been painless, but Solas finds it easier to manage with someone trusted by his side this time.

"Would you marry me, Solas?"

The pages blur, shift, and he almost drops the book all together at such a question. He leans away from Keela to see her keen eyes gauging his reaction. "I beg your pardon?"

She places a comforting kiss against his cheek. "I'm not _asking_ , asking. I heard some of our esteemed guests murmuring in the halls. They thought our relationship when I was Inquisitor was inappropriate, but it is nothing compared to the scandal of it now."

"So you would marry me to satisfy the squabbling gentry, then?" he asks, playful now that the shock of her words has waned somewhat. "It is hardly a romantic notion, vhenan."

"Perhaps not," she says and falls back into silence. Solas watches her fiddle with the folds of her dress again, but this time it seems to be a nervous habit instead of something to pass the time.

"I did not believe such a thing was something you wanted."

Keela shrugs. "It wasn't. It isn't. I guess I've never really considered it before. Things are different now though, will be different."

Solas glances down at the valley below and the structures nestled there. It is a new home filled to the brim with their people and a hope once thought lost. Crystal spires gleam in the gentle light of the sun so similar to the ones he remembers from so long ago, but Keela is right. Everything is different from the world before.

"I suppose if one were to propose such an arrangement, I would not be against the idea," he says.

"I shall bear that in mind," she says, teasing, and returns her head to his shoulder. Solas finds his place in the book once more, although his mind seems to wander from the flowing script now.

"Imagine," Keela continues after a few quiet seconds, "if they think it is scandalous now, wait until they find out I'm having your child."

"Yes, that would surely-" This time Solas does drop his book. His head snaps down to find a satisfied smirk blooming on her lips. He doesn't realize he has forgotten to take a breath until she lifts her head up and the grin turns into something softer. "But you-"

She shrugs again, lifting away from his side. "I know."

"I…are you certain?"

"Yes, Solas, I'm certain." Clouds of concern cover her features. "Are you upset? I know this isn't-"

He does not allow her to finish, pressing a kiss to her mouth that smashes their noses together, arms wrapping around her and pulling her off the ground onto his lap without a care to those that watch nearby. Keela's laughter is bright as he kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, her brow, his own joy bubbling up between breaths.

"Now they will surely talk," she says, arms holding tight around his neck.

"I do not care." Solas rests his forehead against hers, trembling fingers holding onto her skin. He never thought he could feel like this, so full of happiness that the seams of his being feel stretched and ready to burst. " _Vhenan_ …"

He calls her his heart, his home, and it appears in need of growing larger.


End file.
